


The Secretive Chef

by Blobbyswinger69



Category: Inglourious Basterds (2009), Supernatural, Webkinz, crack - Fandom
Genre: Crack, Multi, Nazi, webkinz - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:24:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blobbyswinger69/pseuds/Blobbyswinger69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sam is a cow webkinz and they get a case on Chef Gaspatcho. Pure crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secretive Chef

"Now remember, dean," Mary chimed. "You only get on,"  
Dean eagerly reached up and grabbed the Moo Cow webkinz from her soft grasp.  
"Sammy," he gurgled, hugging it tighter into his chest. It was a beautiful start, to an horrific relationship.  
...  
Dean put down the shit cheap phone, smirking slightly.  
"We got a case, Milky Cocoapuffs," dean shot a glance of sam trying to mousterize his utters, but he simply couldn't reach. "Here, lemme help you,"  
He picked up the bottle and squirted almost a handful of moisturizer into his hand and began to rub sams fleshy utters. He smoothed his hand over all 6 exstremities in a circular motion, making sure to coat each and every one of sams enormous tetes carfully and effectivly. Sam stopped dean with a dirty hoove.  
"Back to bussiness," he coughed, pretending not to have enjoyed that precious moment. "What do we got?"  
"Well, three people went missing after soposedly watching a television show,"  
"Did any of the Vic's have anything in common?"  
"Yeah, they were all known-" dean stoped, then leaned in to wisper. "Communists,"  
"So what's the plan of action?"  
"Kick ass and collect panties?" Dean almost begged, sam loved that.  
"Why don't we just get jobs as personal assistants on the show?,"  
"Well, that would be a good idea, IF I LIKED SUCKING DICKS,"  
"You do like sucking dicks...," sam countered.  
Dean ignored the comment and called up the tv show.  
...  
"Action," the director shouted.  
both Winchesters arived just as they started filming. "Welcome to-a secret chef, with-a me, Chef Gaspatcho. Today's secret recipe is- eh if I tell you, then it won't be a secret, but you can keep a secret eh?"  
They waited patiently for the cameras to stop rolling so they could interrogate the porkchop. It wasnt very long till the chef entered his trailor.  
"Hello chef, we were wondering if we could ask you a few questions," sam started, pulling out a pencil and note pad.  
"Yes, but no incest!" He eyed dean as if his face was a clitorous.  
"If it's called 'Secret Chef' why is it on public television," Dean smeared. Gaspatcho leaned in reall close and wispered:  
"To find the snitches,"  
Dean looked towards sam. "And what is it you do once you find them?"  
Gaspatcho took off his Chefs hat and rubbed his eyes. "Imma felling a-little tired eh, I request no more questionais,"  
He listened for the door to shut, so he could put down the knife behind his back.  
.....  
Dean knocked on the bathroom door. "Sammy?" There was no answer. "You've been in there longer then America's economic depression."  
There was still no answer. Dean decided the only reasonable thing he could possibly do was the break sams boundaries of privacy. To deans shock, like a mouth full of cock, sam wasn't there. Dean yanked out his shit phone and jammed in a number.  
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.  
"Come on, pick up." Dean clenched his jaw.  
Ring. Ring. Ring. "...hopless,"  
"What? Donny?"  
"I'm hopeless, "  
"Shut up, I need your help,"  
"Dean? Goddamnit, I'm retired. Besides, anyone who helps a winchester, ends up dead."  
"Please Donny,"  
"It doesn't matter, I'm nothing like I used to be,"   
"I don't give a herpie, I just need your help to find someone,"  
Donny sighed into the phone. "Name?"  
"Sa-MOO-L winchester. I believe he's been taken by Chef Gaspacho. Please he's my brother," dean waited a few minutes till Donny answered.  
"I couldn't find anything, my best guess would be find the chef. Goodbye dean."  
"If you care you'll meet me at the Webkinz Studio," dean slamed his phone shut, emitting tiny cracks and shards peircing is fierce fists.  
...  
"Chef?" Dean called into the empty kitchen set. Gaspatcho seemed to have left a half Finnished salad, only missing one ingredient, as usuall. "Goddamnit, Gaspatcho get your as out where I can see it!"  
Muffled screames fought their way out the small Delux Oven. Of all the monsters he fought, sweat glistened down his dirty Texas neck. What horror would await him as he opened the oven? He cautiously reached his arm towards the handle, which felt hot under his hand. He took two breaths, then counted to three.  
"3!" He shouted yanking open the oven. A woman plopped out infront of him, just barely singed."If I didn't know any better, I would've called you mom,"  
"What?" She half coughed, gagging on the fresh air. When looking at the figure infront of her, she lifted two charred arms to cover her face. As if that would save her. "Don't hurt me !" She cried, hardly louder then a wisper.  
"Cut the act, whore pussy, I'm here to save you,"  
"You know of me?"  
"You're the girl who fucked the delivery boy of article 125 of playboy, don't take me as a fool," he spat, hiding the fact of how many times he got off on that one. "Where's Gaspatcho?"  
"You're-a looking for me, no  
?" Gaspacho laughed, not even looking at dean or whore pussy. He walked into the dim overhead light, reavealing his uniform.  
"You're a nazi!" Dean wailed as Gaspatcho pulled out his revolver and let it rest on deans stomatch.  
"You feel-a that, eh," he growled.  
"I don't feel anything, not since hell," dean barked. Gaspatcho shot once at the ceiling and placed it back on deans stomatch. The warmth from the last bullet felt like a thousand suns on his stomatch. "I-I feel it. Do it. Just shoot me you coward,"  
Gaspatcho cocked his gun. while dean prepared to die, faint tapping could be heard in the distance.  
Bang.  
Bang.   
Bang.   
Bang.   
Bang.   
Bang.  
"Sergeant Donny Donowitz, at your service," Donny bowed.  
"Donny!" Dean thanked whatever being was watching over him, if only they were there more often.  
"The Bear Jew," the chef gasped, already starting to kneel and beg for his insignificant life, tears streaming down is unvaried pink face.  
Donny put his bloody bat up to the chefs left cheek, "where's sam you filthy swine,"  
"I'll-a die before I talk-a," he spat. Donny swing back the bat, lifting it way over his head to smash this piggy to mulch.  
"Ok! Ok! He's in-a da gem minds!" Gaspacho screamed, ducking his head into the ground. "Just don't kill me!"  
Donny lifted up the bat, and smashed chef Gaspatcho till not even his own mother could identify him.  
...  
"Welcome to the curio shop, hope you find what you're lookin for,"  
"Which mine is Sammy in!" Dean demanded.  
"Today looks like a good day for some mining,"  
"Answer me!"  
"Hope you find the gem of the day,"  
"That's it," dean reached for Donny's bat.  
"Forget it! He's useless, lets just check the mine!" Donny snatched back his bat and they carried on.  
It only took a newyork minute to find sam lying on the ground in mine: kampf.  
"Mooooooeeehhh!" He helplessly whined.  
"Sammy, Sammy," dean sprinted towards his dairy friend and rolled him over.  
"Dean don't touch him," Donny yelled. "He's wired." Dean looked down at sams stomatch which had 2 minutes left till it went off.  
"Why did it go after you sam, why did he grab you? Why couldn't it have been me,"  
"Cause I'm a communist," dean stopped fighting with the wires, which were to close to stopping the clock. "Don't be mad."  
Dean got off his knees.  
"Dean? Don't please don't ," he cried.  
"Leave him," dean growled towards Donny as he exited the mine. He didnt look back once as he felt the roaring heat behind him singe the hairs on his neck.


End file.
